Sink or Swim
by SparksFlyOut
Summary: "It wasn't so much the power play but the changes in it that turned him on so badly - a hunter becoming the prey; the oldest story in the book."


**A/N:** While writing this, I often felt like one of the animals in those pictures where they're doing something silly and non-animal-like and the caption says "I have no idea what I'm doing". I've seen exactly one of those episodes where the PB gang is in Sona and honestly, I know virtually nothing about the whole series. So why did I write this in the first place? The answer is, I don't know. It may have something to do with me obsessing over William Fichtner.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing (except the mistakes). The lyrics are by Alkaline Trio.

**Warnings:** Drugs, slashy intentions, some language I think. Unbeta'd for now. Also, random ship is random.

* * *

_This impending doom is left deep inside_

_And it's haunting you each and every night_

_Like starving wolves, drowning sheep_

_We close our eyes, pretending to sleep_

_Descending..._

Theodore Bagwell had a strong feeling that there was not a single soul on the face of Earth who could've said that Sona was a pleasant place on any level. And exactly what would've been the point of saying such things, anyway - as it was so disorientingly clear that everybody could see it, that Sona was built to be an exclusive Hell on Earth; almost magically reflecting the personal nightmares of every living soul it kept inside of it. It was one of those places that should never have existed; an open wound in the flesh of life itself.

So even Theodore, who had been to many places during his vivid life (and most of them had not been utterly pleasant), had to admit that Sona was indeed quite a bad place. But, as he had noticed with a slight surprise, it wasn't in fact the worst place he had been to. And that fact gave him some welcomed room to think and to work. Because, what was life, in the end, other than making even the most unpleasant aspects of it worthwhile?

Theodore had always been the one to live for the moment, and that hadn't changed - he doubted it never would. The way he saw it, Sona was just another stop on his way to some place else - where, he did not know, nor did he particularly care at the moment. The important thing was that he was getting out of here; he wasn't exactly sure how yet, but it was going to happen, so there really was no point in stressing over it too much. In the meantime he could as well make it so that the time he spent here wasn't thrown in the wastebin of his life. That was already too full as it was.

In Theodore's mind, every problematic situation in one's life could be solved with one simple keyword: _adaption. _He knew the secret of the universe, and that was it. Adapt or die.

And so he had done just that.

His slender fingers were accustomedly sorting through a pile of pills in all shapes, sizes and colors of the rainbow, and he hummed quietly while his hands worked, some tune which name he couldn't bother to remember. _"Thi__s knife that's in my back, it'd be the the truth that introduced us..." _Oxycodone, Alfentanyl, Hydromorphone. _"And the distance __in-between__ us, it's the proof of my conclusion..." _Demerol, Methadone, Ecstasy. _"So life is what you make it, I hope you make a__ movement, hope your opportunity survives the opportunist..."_

Theodore smiled to himself. _Forever the opportunist. _Sucking up to Lechero, as repulsive as it had been, had possibly been the smartest decision of his entire life, because that and nothing else had brought him to where he was now. He could certainly think of worse ways to spend time than this. It was all about power play, something he knew everything about; all about having what people wanted, giving them what they wanted, _being_ what they wanted. And when it came down to it, he was their savior, God himself, offering all those sorry souls morsels of relieve in such a tiny package; a whole world stuffed inside of a gelatin capsule, whole world and all the things in it.

Somebody came up to him and asked him something, one of Lechero's lackeys. Theodore didn't pay much attention, didn't really listen what the question was about.

"Nah. I'm waitin' for somebody."

The guy gave him a look, but left him alone. Theodore carefully swept one pile of pills into a small zipper bag, closed it and glanced outside; he figured it was about six PM. _Shouldn't be for long now._

It was quite unbelievable, really, how quickly the time passed by if you had something to wait for.

Certain man with a title of an ex-agent and piercing eyes had had a hold of a great part of Theodore's brain capacity for a few days now, which, he knew, went completely against his characteristics. Usually he wasn't one to wait around, and yet he had even calculated how long it would take for the man to come crawling at his feet; however knowing that the longer he acted like this – _irrationally -, _the more power the agent would ultimately have over him.

But then, as long as Alex didn't know that he held some sort of a power in his gunslinger fingers, he couldn't possibly use it for his advantage, and so, as for now, Theodore had nothing to worry about. _I'm guessin' ol' Mahone has mightier things to worry about than what kind of feelings he raises in people he encounters._

And Theodore was, of course, right. He often was.

The sound of a poignant knock rang against the door at eight PM sharp, about an hour later than Theodore had expected, but it was there nonetheless. Ten minutes earlier he had actually started thinking about whether he had made a miscalculation (which would've been his first, where people were concerned), and that perhaps Alex had fought and won, unlikely as that was.

But of course he hadn't. He needed his fix. Theodore had seen hooked men before, and Alex, ladies and gentlemen, girls and boys, was a hooked man. A model example of one, as well.

Theodore still couldn't believe his luck. He would've never believed that this man, this disciplined and rock-hard man, eyes made of blue steel and smoke, was actually a junkie, a slave for something as mundane as drugs. Only a couple of weeks ago one could've never believed it by looking at him. When Alex had come to him three days ago, sweating, trembling, _begging, _Theodore'd had to look twice before he had actually believed that this was the same man who had chased them with such a fervent intransigence, such intensity that it was unnerving, eyes like diamonds, the man's obvious desire towards Michael radiating off of him in waves. It was quite inconceivable what a small pill could do to you... or a few dozen of small pills.

But then, Theodore thought, he was probably underestimating the powers of a chemical substance. Drugs had never been his cup of tea, he had other ways to get high, and so he couldn't really tell what it was like to be addicted. What he could tell, though, was that Alex's pills were quite the heavier caliber than your everyday Aspirin, and Alex had been popping them like mints. No wonder the man he had seen was slowly being eaten alive by them.

And yet, despite all that, despite whatever it was that the withdrawal had done to Alex, when he had stepped through the door in front of Theodore, he had somehow managed to look even more stunning than before, and Theodore had almost fallen into pieces before him. Had he not been so dumbfounded by the whole thing, by _Alex, _he would've grabbed the man and fucked his brains out right there and then. He had been careful not to let any of that show, however; he had just quickly found Alex something even closely resembling Midazolam and watched, mesmerized, as he had turned into a totally different man in a matter of only minutes - as if the symptoms had been peeled off of him, Alex had relaxed, layer by layer, limb by limb, until it had looked like he had been watching Theodore from under the surface like a drowning man, taking his last, slow breaths.

It hadn't been until Alex had already been making leave that Theodore had remembered he wasn't doing this out of the goodness of his heart, and he had put his hand on Alex's shoulder and said lowly_; "You can consider this first one as a favor, Alex, but the next time around you better be ready to pay for it."_ By the time he had finished the sentence, however, Alex had been out of it, already cruising twenty-thousand feet above them, above Sona, into the oblivion and beyond it, and Theodore had had no idea whether Alex had understood what he had said, let alone remembered it later on. He had just chuckled softly and looked at Theodore through some kind of warm haze, smiled a weird and deranged smile that seemed to start from nowhere and end nowhere, and walked away with wavering, but considerably lighter steps than what he had walked in with; a sight that had almost been enough for Theodore to pull him back and remind him about where he was and who he was dealing with. But he had restrained himself, because he knew that Alex would come back sooner or later - there wasn't a slightest doubt about it.

Later that night the mere image of Alex standing in front of him had sent Theodore over the edge again and again. Alex, begging Theodore to give him something, panic clouding his unthinkably blue eyes, the fear of withdrawal shredding apart every reasonable thought... _Oh, I'll give you somethin', mister. A w__hole lotta somethin'. _

And there Alex stood now, just as predicted. The man had always had a great sense of timing, and he didn't prove to be a disappointment now. Theodore took a deep breath as if wanting to suck in the pure essence of him, the smallest details and everything.

Alex looked slightly less crazed than he had looked three days ago, but it was all still there - crossed wires dancing behind his eyes, his movements jerky and forced, his face taut and tense, like a bowstring ready to snap. Edginess was emanating from him so clearly that it almost made the air ripple around him. He looked like a man in need... and Theodore loved the idea of having him on the palm of his hand. It wasn't so much the power play but the changes in it that turned him on so badly - a hunter becoming the pray; the oldest story in the book.

Theodore had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop a grin from spreading across his face. He was waiting for Alex to give in, to acknowledge why he was there; he would have to swallow his pride (or whatever was left of it) in any case before the evening turned into night, so he could as well start right now.

But when nothing happened, when Alex just stood on the doorway eyeing Theodore, sweating his vitality into the hot evening air, Theodore thought he might give in on this one thing, and sighed patiently, in a way one could sigh with a stubborn child.

"Hello again, Alex."

Theodore's gaze was burning holes in Alex's flesh, and he fidgeted visibly under his scrutinization, but didn't draw his eyes away. When he finally opened his mouth, his voice was hoarse, but it had an undertone that hadn't been there three days ago, and it sounded like steel. It was very feeble, barely recognizable, but still there and it caught Theodore's attention immediately. This could prove to be harder than what he had originally thought, but then again, he was always up for a challenge.

Especially one he knew for certain he was going to win.

"You know why I'm here."

Theodore tilted his head. "That's true, I do. But do you? If you don't mind me sayin' so, you strike me as a man who's havin' a hard time admittin' something to himself."

Alex flashed a dry, mirthless smile. "That's funny, I thought I was the expert on profiling people."

Theodore breathed out a mock gasp. "Oh look! It almost made a joke, kinda."

Alex frowned, changed his posture. "Can we skip all this bullshit? You know what I'm here for, and so do I, even though you seem to think otherwise." He glanced behind his back as if wanting to make sure nobody was listening, not knowing that Theodore had made sure nobody would barge in that night for any reason less significant than a prison riot, and preferably not even then.

"I need something."

Those words were said quietly, and the tone of them caressed Theodore's ears. It was the tone of a man who knew he was walking into the sea but couldn't stop.

"Of course you do." Smiling, Theodore took a couple of steps back without taking his eyes away from the other man's face. "Wanna come in?"

Alex cleared his throat, hovering at the door as if his subconscious had been trying to leave him some kind of a potential getaway from the situation. "To be honest, I'd rather not."

"Now, Alex... I can't help you if you won't let me." Theodore's smile was poisonously sweet, like a candy apple full of arsenic. "And I'm the only one in this shithole who can do that."

Alex didn't argue with that, but he didn't move, either. His pale blue eyes, all dimmed pupils and bloodshot whites, darted from random objects in the room to Theodore's face, and Theodore was mesmerized by them, even though they never locked onto his own eyes.

And of course, this was all just a game to him, but just looking at that man made his bones ache in a way he would never have thought possible. Alex wasn't playing fair. Theodore felt as if the outcome of this situation would determinate _his_ faith, even though it was another way around completely – _he _was the master of this game, even though he had to admit that Alex was a quite of an emotional gambler himself. Everything was a game to him, even chasing Michael, _especially _chasing Michael; he knew exactly how to hook people, thought they'd never back away if he threw something considered a challenge at their direction. Maybe that was part of why Theodore had been so attracted to him since the day one; rattle of the dice could be heard near people like Alex.

_They __**never **__play it fair, cops, _Theodore thought, sighing inside of his head and, mostly to drag himself away from his musings, pointed out aloud; "You're late." This needed concentration, if it was going to go down the way he wanted it to.

"Late? From what exactly?"

"From your absolution, of course." Theodore crossed his arms and grinned like a carved pumpkin. "If you wanna take it literally. But what I actually meant was that you turned up later than I expected."

"My absolution?" Alex's voice was hoarse, stretched, but a ghost of a mocking smile played around his lips. "I think you're mistaking me for someone else, it's still too early for my absolution, and when the time does come, I'd rather you didn't have anything to do with - -"

He blinked, and Theodore could almost _hear_ the sound of the words sinking in.

"You've been waiting for me?"

Theodore just smiled the smile of a wolf and sat down on one of the chairs in the room, arms still crossed, legs spread, the posture of an alpha male.

"Answer me", Alex demanded weakly, and the way he spoke like something had actually depended on the answer to that question, amused Theodore greatly. "Why would you - -"

"I do think you'd wanna to be nicer to someone who's tryin' to help you out," Theodore interrupted in a friendly tone. "You can ask me questions all you like, Alex. And I can answer what I want, 'cause in the end none of it really matters, does it? 'Cause you and I both know you're not gonna walk out of that door."

He knew he was pushing it, but he also knew it wouldn't matter. Alex was in the middle of his withdrawal symptoms and had he really walked away now, without his fix, he might've as well put a bullet through his head right at this moment.

"Isn't that right?"

Theodore could see the gears turning behind Alex's pretty eyes and the man's inner demons clashing with each other; and it was visible on his face that no matter how it made him feel, he had come to the same conclusion as Theodore, that the younger man was indeed right, that Alex wouldn't take the chance to walk out of this situation... and that later there most likely would not be such a chance to take.

"Yes."

Alex's voice was nothing more than a whisper in the night but the word was still there, it echoed off the walls and was left hanging in the air, and Theodore sat up a little straighter, enjoying every second of this macabre little play.

"I'm glad that's sorted out." He looked Alex dead in the eye, and wondered to himself just how tough the man before him essentially was, wondered how much of his exterior was just that – a façade. But he would find out soon enough. The briefest moment of hesitation mirrored from Alex's eyes, but then he blinked and it was gone, the addiction getting the upper hand, as it always would, extinguishing the faint flame of caution like a candle light.

"Now then... are you comin' in... or are you goin' out?"

Alex shot the last glance behind his back, stepped fully in and closed the door behind him.


End file.
